This morning I was on a roll.  I was out of the house early (early enough to stop at Tim Hortons in fact) and was ready to tackle the day.
Sadly, my Trailblazer was not.  Luckily, my long suppressed mechanical inclination kicked in and I checked my idiot lights.  Ah, the battery light.
Confused about why my battery would be weak (as my truck is like, 6 months old) I placed a call to Steve.  “Um, yeah, so do you know where the charger is and how do I use it because my battery is dead.”  Stupid voicemail.
I find the charger (having wedged myself in between the truck and the storage credenza), read the directions and start charging the battery.
Meanwhile, I enjoy a breakfast of Healthy Heart Smart Start and get a load of laundry in.  Making the best of a bad situation I guess…
Battery charged, I make it into work without incident.  I email Steve to let him know to ignore my message, crisis averted.
He calls.  “So, what happened?  I didn’t get your message?”
“(rehashing of events).  I knew what to check, what to do AND I didn’t cry!”
“I’m so proud of you!”
“Wait.  So you’re more proud of me knowing how to jump a vehicle then you are of my donating blood?”
Matter-of-factly “Well, yeah!”
“You make no sense to me.”